


Sleeping Prince

by N N West (raynewton)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynewton/pseuds/N%20N%20West
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aftermath of an op gone wrong</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Prince

SLEEPING PRINCE

by N N West

 

He was there again, standing under the streetlamp, his upturned collar  
scant protection against the icy rain. His car was parked just down the  
street, but he never availed himself of its shelter and warmth. He  
stood as he had stood through all the long weeks, his gaze fixed on the  
house, heedless of the weather. 

Waiting. 

He was not always there, of course. He would vanish for hours, days at  
a time; but he always returned, keeping his silent lonely vigil. He  
never spoke to her, and she had learned to hurry past with her head  
lowered, her eyes averted, avoiding his gaze, trying to deny the guilt  
she felt at his patient persistence. 

She had considered calling the police, but it seemed petty to do so. He  
was no threat any more, never caused trouble. He simply waited. 

Alex would be furious if he knew, but she had no intention of telling  
him. In the first storm of rage and grief Alex had forbidden him the  
house and would not relent. If he knew about the haunting he might take  
some drastic action, and she didn't want either of them hurt. There had  
been too much pain already. 

Through the streaming glass she recognised her daughter hurrying along  
the rain-swept street. The watcher drew further back as she approached,  
but as soon as she had turned up the path he drifted back to his former  
position, his face a pale blur in the lamplight. 

The door banged shut. "Mum, I'm home!" 

"In here, Cathy. Kettle's on." 

There was a few moments of silence, then the door opened behind her.  
She heard the rattle of crockery as a mug was set down on the coffee  
table. Her daughter joined her at the window, holding out another. 

Sipping her own tea Cathy observed, "He's still there." 

"Still. Again." Bewilderment clouded the tired eyes. "What does he  
want? Why doesn't he give up?" 

"Perhaps he can't." There was speculation in the quiet voice. "Mum, do  
you think...?" 

With a weary shake of her head, the mother turned into the room. "Ray,  
drink your tea." 

Pain lanced through her at the mechanical obedience. Physically  
recovered from the grenade blast, there was no reason why Ray should  
not be completely whole. But his mind, his personality, remained sealed  
behind a barrier that no-one could breach. It was as though nothing  
held any meaning for him. He functioned on an automatic level, did as  
he was told, but there was no response, no awareness. Baffled, the  
doctors had allowed him to come home, hoping that the familiar  
environment, the stimulation of family life, would reach him. Nothing  
did. His mother, brother, sister - even the children - he looked  
through them all, unheeding. What he saw, what he thought, what he  
felt, she didn't care to speculate; almost she hoped that he was as  
unaware as he seemed. 

Looking at him now, she felt her heart ache. The once-sparkling green  
eyes were clouded and dull; the riotous tumble of curls lank and  
straggling; the tense, vital body slumped. They'd tried everything... 

*Everything*? 

Resolution already forming in her mind, she turned back to the window.  
"Cathy, I'm going to let him in." 

"Should you, Mum? Alex blames *him* for Ray being... the way he is.  
Suppose he's right?" 

"And suppose he's wrong. Did you ever think of that? You *know* how  
close they were. And... it might not help Ray - I'm beginning to think  
nothing can - but what about *him*?" 

The younger woman nodded. "You're right. I looked at him on my way in -  
*really* looked at him. Call him, Mum." 

Mrs Doyle set down her cup and walked slowly into the hall. With each  
step she was more sure that she was right. If nothing else, perhaps  
when he saw how hopeless it was, the haunting would stop. 

Opening the front door, she peered out into the driving rain. "Bodie?" 

The gate clicked. He was coming up the path, his eyes fixed beyond her  
on the pool of yellow light spilling from the house. Involuntarily, she  
gasped. He looked ill - more so than Ray. The pale skin was drawn tight  
over the bones, shadows like bruises lay beneath the blue eyes, so dark  
with pain they looked almost black. She caught his arm, pulling him  
into the light and warmth. 

"You're soaked. Get that jacket off before you catch your death." 

Unresisting, he allowed her to pull the sodden garment away; his flesh  
was chill where her fingers touched him. The anguished eyes came to  
rest on hers, asking a silent question, and she nodded. 

"You can see him - for all the good it'll do." 

Her hand on his arm, she drew him towards the inner room, feeling his  
every nerve jerk tighter in the tense body as the opening door revealed  
the listless figure slumped on the couch. She pushed him forward,  
beckoning to Cathy. Her daughter joined her, and the two women watched  
his first jerky steps into the room. 

"Ray?" She heard the agony in the hoarse whisper. "Oh Christ, *Ray*!" 

With a stumbling, uncoordinated rush he moved forward to kneel beside  
the couch, taking the unresponsive hands in his. Ray's blank gaze  
didn't flicker. Slowly she closed the door and looked at her daughter. 

"I don't know about you, but I could do with another cup of tea. And  
Bodie looks as though he could use a hot meal. Remember how he used to  
eat?" 

"Don't, Mum." Cathy's voice held tears. 

"Ray? Oh Christ, *Ray*!" Somehow he was on his knees, the cold hands  
cradled in his. Slowly he bent his head to place a kiss in the palm,  
then looked up, despair filling him. It hurt worse than anything ever  
had, seeing the blank gaze pass over him without recognition. He'd been  
starved for news. The little Cowley had been able to tell him, odd  
scraps gleaned from neighbours who'd taken pity on him... But nothing  
had prepared him for the reality. Forbidden the house by Alex, he had  
not dared to intrude, fearful that the family were right, that he'd  
make things worse. Ray hadn't told them - there hadn't been time. So  
he, who had the best right to be with Ray, had been driven away, denied  
sight of his partner, flung scraps of second and third hand news which  
he'd devoured eagerly, but unable to see for himself. It couldn't have  
gone on. If they hadn't let him in tonight, he'd have forced his way  
in... 

They said Ray knew nothing, responded to nothing. He wouldn't believe  
that. Couldn't. He reached up to touch the flawed cheekbone, aching  
with tenderness and grief. 

"Ray, it's me, Bodie. Don't you know me, love? Won't you talk to me? At  
least look at me." His eyes searched the beloved face, savouring every  
detail. "Wake up, sunshine. Wake up and come back to me." 

Unable to resist he wound both hands in the soft curls and pulled Ray's  
face down to his. Their lips met, Ray's warm but unresponsive under  
his. Slowly, Bodie's hands fell away and his head dropped to rest on  
Ray's knee. Nothing he could do. In a moment he'd have to get up and  
leave, go back to the emptiness that was his life now. In a few  
minutes. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much after a while... 

Something touched his head, so lightly that he was scarcely sure he  
felt it. He froze, and the touch was repeated, more firmly this time. 

"Your hair's all wet." 

Not daring to breathe, he lifted his head. Ray was looking at him,  
*seeing* him. Their eyes locked, clouded green and pain-filled blue. 

"Bodie?" There was a note of panic in the voice husky from disuse.  
"Bodie, it *is* you? You're here? Alive?" 

"Yeah, it's me, Sunshine." An unsteady grin curved Bodie's lips. "What  
do you mean, 'alive'?" he demanded. "Someone tell you I wasn't?" 

"The grenade... I thought..." Ray faltered. 

"I was clear." 

Bodie remembered that pursuit, Reynolds turning at bay, hand upflung.  
He'd been caught wrong-footed, stumbled; Ray had lifted his gun, and it  
had jammed. Then something dark spinning through the air, and an  
explosion leaping between them. He'd shot the crazy bastard and left  
him lying to search for Ray, finding him unconscious but alive. 

"Thought you were dead." Doyle's voice held the memory of horror.  
"Thought the grenade landed on top of you. My fault... I should've shot  
him, but my gun jammed..." 

"I know, I was there, remember?" Realisation struck Bodie, and he  
gripped the thin shoulders, wincing as he felt the bones beneath his  
hands - - always skinny, Ray had lost too much weight... "Is *that*  
what all this has been about?" he demanded. "You thought I was dead and  
blamed yourself, so you just shut yourself off?" 

Ruefully, Doyle nodded, the green eyes clearing as life and laughter  
flowed back, possible and permitted now that his lover was safe. 

"Stupid little sod," Bodie grumbled affectionately. 

"I know. You keep telling me. Bodie..." A slim finger traced the  
pouting lips, then Ray's hands framed the pale face. "You don't mind if  
I... make sure?" 

Bodie leaned into the kiss, his mouth opening to take the questing  
tongue. 

Ray drew back, nodded solemnly. "Yeah, it's you. No-one tastes like you  
do, Bodie." 

Their lips touched again, hunger flowing between them as the kiss  
deepened, urgent, demanding, all the old fire and need stark and clear.  
When they drew apart both were shaking and gasping for breath. 

"Well, that's more like it!" Bodie exclaimed. "But if it's kisses you  
want, Sunshine...!" 

He rose to his feet, his lips parted, laughter in the midnight eyes to  
answer the devil in Ray's flushed face. For a moment he waited,  
focussing on his prey; then, like the sleek jungle predator of his  
lover's fantasy, Bodie pounced. 

In the kitchen, Cathy looked at the clock for the umpteenth time. "How  
long are you going to let him stay, Mum?" 

"As long as he wants," Mrs Doyle said firmly. "Oh, I know I agreed with  
Alex at the beginning. I was hurt and angry, wanting someone to blame -  
Bodie was just too convenient. He walked away from that grenade, while  
Ray... But I've been thinking, Cathy. He and Ray were very close -  
closer than Ray and Alex ever were. What if we were wrong? What if  
Bodie has the key? Brings him back? We've kept them apart all these  
weeks - maybe for nothing." 

"Don't get your hopes up, Mum," Cathy warned, taking the older woman's  
hand. "But you're right. Bodie cares. Sometimes when I've walked past  
him I've wanted to bring him in myself. Even if there's nothing he can  
do, he's earned the right to see Ray. Still..." 

The back door flew open, admitting a flurry of rain and a tall figure.  
Both women jumped up in delighted welcome. 

"Alex! You should have let us know." 

"Wasn't time - didn't know myself till the last minute. Good to see  
you, Mum. Cathy." Alex Doyle hugged his mother and sister, then glanced  
around the quiet kitchen. 

"Mum, I don't want to worry you, but one of the neighbours told me he  
saw that bastard Bodie on the path. He hasn't been bothering you, has  
he?" 

"He's been with Ray for over an hour," Mrs Doyle said calmly. "I called  
him in" 

"You...? Well, he can leave again. I'm not having him upsetting Ray,  
stirring up old memories." 

"I only wish he could," Cathy said bitterly. "Mum's right, Alex. Leave  
them alone." 

"You're crazy, both of you." Alex stormed to the door, his mother and  
sister following. "Where are they? The front room?" Without any warning  
he threw the door open. 

For a moment there was no movement. Ray was lying on the couch, Bodie  
sitting on the floor beside him, gripping his hand. With an  
inarticulate roar, Alex hurled himself across the room, pulled Bodie to  
his feet and felled him with a vicious punch to the jaw. 

"Get the hell out of here, Bodie!" he snarled. "Haven't you hurt him  
enough?" He reached down, grabbing a fistful of Bodie's shirt, fist  
raised for another blow. 

Cathy screamed in shock as an avenging whirlwind erupted from the  
couch, grabbed Alex by the neck and dumped him unceremoniously on the  
floor. 

"Touch him again, you cretin, and I'll break your sodding neck!" Ray  
snarled, dropping to his knees beside his dazed partner. "Bodie, you  
okay?" 

"He can count himself lucky he's your brother," Bodie muttered  
vengefully, tenderly feeling his bruised jaw. "But if he tries that  
again, I might not remember." 

"Ray...Ray, you went for him," Mrs Doyle stammered. 

Ray shot a glance of dislike at his stupefied brother. "What the hell  
else was I supposed to do when this great clown starts thumping my  
feller?" he demanded. He rose lithely to his feet, extended a hand to  
pull Bodie up with him. "On your feet, Sunshine. You'll live." 

"Your... feller?" Alex said faintly. "Bodie?" 

Suddenly realising what he had said, Ray ran a hand distractedly though  
his hair. "Yeah, well. Didn't mean to blurt it out quite like that.  
Bodie and I... we belong. See, I thought he was dead. Thought it was my  
fault. I was asleep, caught in a nightmare. Didn't want to wake up 'cos  
then I'd have to face the fact that it was true. But it wasn't. He  
walked in here tonight - and woke me." He turned a brooding gaze on his  
brother. "Like it or lump it, Alex, Bodie's in my life to stay." 

"Strewth." The older man scrambled hastily to his feet, eyeing Bodie  
warily. Shaking his head, Alex continued, "You're old enough to make up  
your own mind. You want him, you got him. But a nutter like that...  
Don't do things by halves, do you, Ray Doyle?" 

An hour later in the kitchen Cathy and Mrs Doyle were watching in some  
awe as Bodie made rapid inroads into his third plate of stew. Ray was  
gazing at him with what Alex - before taking himself off to the pub -  
had described with some revulsion as moon-faced adoration. The two  
women had not come fully to terms with the depth of Ray's commitment to  
this blue-eyed enigma, but he was back, he was happy, and that was all  
that mattered. 

It was Cathy who put her foot in it. "Ray, you said that Bodie woke you  
up." 

"Yeah." Bodie gestured with his fork. "Just like that fairy tale. You  
know - the Sleeping Princess. Ray was giving his interpretation of the  
Sleeping Prince." 

"So how did you wake him?" Cathy demanded. 

Suddenly seeing the pit yawning at his feet, Bodie coloured and looked  
pleadingly at his partner. But there was no mercy - a devil of mischief  
sparkled in the green eyes. 

"How else? He kissed me," Ray Doyle said solemnly. 

THE END


End file.
